Un-Named

The tree’s whisper as the wind hits the top of the branches, the trees whispers as the squirrel’s fun down its trunk. The sun is out and bright, the squirrels are squeaking as they chase each other across the field, in and out of the trees they watch and listen silently for danger. As time goes by they start moving running around as another joins and lays still in the grass as the sun hits its reddish tan stomach. As the grass whistles around them, Leaves falling as the tree whispers “it’s time to leave; it’s okay ill get more next year.” As the leaves are turning ready to be set free. As the grass gets ready for them to swiftly fall unto them. Deformed tree’s with wholes in there trunk in and out the bug’s goes as they please there are no boundaries as to what they have to do. Moving tails as swiftly as can be. Being silent as possible they make their way up to their nests and eat there nuts. As the grass whistles and the trees whispers goodnight as tomorrow they start a brand new day.

Tyler Tillett
9-18-09

by Tyler Tillett

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